They talked and laughed softly over nothing at all.
It had been a lovely day, one of the best in a long time. If only she could see Cormac, see for herself that he was alive, that he was healing. If only she could touch him again, it would have been perfect.
Chapter 31
Two weeks after she’d seen Cormac carried out on a stretcher, worried she’d never see him again, he came strolling into the gardens.
Aoife froze, hardly daring to breathe.
She ran to him, flinging her arms around his neck. He winced, and she pulled away at once.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said, smiling faintly.
Up close, he was pale; his movements were careful and deliberate. When he shifted his weight, his breath caught.
“Sit,” she said, already guiding him toward the low stone wall.
“Aoife, I’m—”
“Sit,” she repeated, softer this time.
He obeyed.
For the first time in weeks, she could breathe again.
Aoife crouched in front of him, searching his face. “You shouldn’t be here yet.”
“I knew you’d say that, but I couldn’t stay away.”
“I mean it,” she said. “You look—” she stopped herself. “Did Riona get the Brewthorn I sent? Has she been using comfrey? Slánlus, and yarrow are good for healing too.”
He laughed softly. “She’s been using everything. I’m half herb by now.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He shifted a little stiffly and tugged at the neck of his shirt, revealing the bandages that were wrapped around every inch of his torso, clean and careful beneath the linen. “You can smell me if you like.”
Aoife leant in and took a deep inhale.
Cormac laughed. “I was joking.”
“I don’t joke about healing.” Aoife smiled. He smelt good, really good. Not the rotten smell of bad blood and injury, but the fresh smell of herbs. She could easily pick them out individually. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “Your mam did a good job.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the garden hushed around them, leaves stirring faintly overhead.
Cormac glanced at her. “You know,” he said, “what you did… it was really brave.”
Aoife stilled.
“Don’t get me wrong, it was madness. And I’m still not sure how I feel about you putting my parents in the line of fire. But it worked.”
The words landed strangely. For a moment she didn’t know what to do with them.
Her mind moved ahead of her, quick and instinctive. What did he want her to say? What version of her did he want to see?
Aoife caught herself mid-thought. She didn’t perform around Cormac; she didn’t censor herself or manipulate. Her stomach flipped nauseatingly.
